“You’re giving the Child instructions?” the airplane asked. “You’re preparing him?”

“Yes. He understands that I’m going to be here. Children seem to be like that. As a subject race they have been taught to accept; it’s all they can do. I am another teacher, invading his life, giving him orders. Another voice, telling him that—”

“You’ve started the second phase?”

“So soon?” My Lord was amazed. “Why? Is it necessary, so quickly?”

“The factory is becoming anxious. Most of the group has been destroyed, as I said.”

“I know.” My Lord nodded absently. “We expected it, we planned with realism, knowing the chances.” It strode back and forth on the dresser-top. “Naturally, many would fall into their hands, the Adults. The Adults are everywhere, in all key positions, important stations. It’s the psychology of the ruling race to control each phase of social life. But as long as those who reach Children survive—”

“You were not supposed to know, but outside of yourself, there’s only three left. Just three.”

“Three?” My Lord stared.

“Even those who reached Children have been destroyed right and left. The situation is tragic. That’s why they want you to get started with the second phase.”

My Lord clenched its fists, its features locked in iron horror. Only three left… What hopes they had entertained for this band, venturing out, so little, so dependent on the weather—and on being wound up tight. If only they were larger! The Adults were so huge.

But the Children. What had gone wrong? What had happened to their one chance, their one fragile hope?

“How did it happen? What occurred?”

“No one knows. The factory is in a turmoil. And now they’re running short of materials. Some of the machines have broken down and nobody knows how to run them.” The airplane coasted toward the edge of the dresser. “I must be getting back. I’ll report later to see how you’re getting on.”